His Eldest Daughter
by Mrs.GingerHinkley
Summary: Cygnus Black fathered only daughters when he needed a son to carry his family's noble name. But Bellatrix carried herself above the men of her society, so perhaps Cygnus indulged her. Perhaps she was the warrior to defend his noble and most ancient pride.
1. Cigar Smoke and Sons

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series.

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Cigar Smoke and Sons

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1968

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Daughter sat on father's lap, oblivious to aging hours as her long green gown spilled to the floor and his cigar filled the room with smoke. Bellatrix spoke her mind too confidently, and Cygnus tolerated his eldest daughter in a manner too close to fondness for a child that would not carry on his name.

After the wee hours of another taste of society, they fell into the weary happiness of the powerful and wealthy. By all accounts, Bellatrix had indulged in too much drink and dance over the course of the evening. She would have slipped from his lap had he not been wrapped so tightly around her finger.

Druella entered briefly, only to scold, not to understand this affection Cygnus harbored for his eldest daughter. Bellatrix was wild. Bellatrix disobeyed the rules. Bellatrix behaved crassly. Bellatrix was a _daughter_.

"Oh, but she has gusto enough to be my son."

Bellatrix lingered lazily somewhere between Cygnus's smirk and Druella's glare.

"And your approval of her impropriety only encourages her further to behave thus."

"Surely, Bellatrix's behavior will not be swayed so easily as that?"

Druella sniffed in her oppressive manner and it must have been too much for Bellatrix, who slid from her father's embrace to sprawl on the floor, tangled her dress in laughter.

With the sharp click of heels, Druella shut the door behind her.

Cygnus stroked his chin, as one who considered the world thoroughly. He found everything terribly interesting, though his environment and social position affected within him an attitude of blasé. Bellatrix alone threatened to interrupt Cygnus's careful station of detachment. Cygnus rested a finger on the bridge of his nose, examining his social-crisis of a daughter.

"You ought to heed to your mother, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix rolled over, propped her chin in her palm, raised an eyebrow.

"And lose the respect of my father?"

Bellatrix challenged Cygnus with an impish stare, and when satisfied with her victory pushed herself from the floor. Perhaps he was tired, perhaps he _was_ too indulgent as Druella warned, but Cygnus couldn't bring himself to scold Bellatrix as she yawned without covering her mouth.

"An absolute bore of a party," Bella said. "Pity you had to put us through that."

Cygnus knew any lectures on the expectations of society would be lost in Bellatrix's unyielding perception of the world.

Bellatrix would continue to issue complaints even if Cygnus held that only a wandless man complained about his situation. Bellatrix held that, seeing how she was not a man, she was allowed to complain. Besides, complaining wasn't so bad if she intended to do something about it, which, Bellatrix assured Cygnus, she did.

Bellatrix poured two glasses of goblin-made wine. She flopped onto the chaise lounge opposite her father and levitated one glass toward him.

"Concentrate," Cygnus muttered, as red liquid threatened to spill from the chalice. No sooner did his fingers wrap around the floating glass than did Bellatrix summon his cigar case with a flick of her wand.

Cygnus stared at his daughter, curiosity overtaking Druella's nagging voice in his head.

Bellatrix noticed his look and became defensive.

"I like the sensation of breathing fire."

"And as for your imbibing?"

Bellatrix paused, always precise in her answers to her father. She smiled suddenly into her drink.

"The wine makes the sensation easier to believe."

Cygnus chuckled at his daughter's cleverness. Still, he warned her, "If you indulge yourself much more, Bellatrix, sensations will be all you have."

"So says you."

"So says I," Cygnus agreed, ending the conversation.

Cygnus practiced the art of ending every day with wine and cigars. The little girl soul that Bellatrix had not yet managed to stifle out of herself followed her father, and thus she did likewise. The sight of Bellatrix settling her smoke induced cough with small gulps of wine was Druella's chagrin. But not so for Cygnus.

He wasn't a sentimental man, so he didn't recognize Bellatrix's endeavors as dedicated mimicry of himself. But Cygnus had once wanted a son so badly, and there his eldest daughter stretched herself on a chaise lounge and swore dragon's fire because she wanted to and didn't give a damn because she could. Smoke haloed his daughter's head like a crown, and Cygnus knew Bellatrix would someday be a queen, that she would rule fiercer than any son.

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**Author's Note:** The relationship between Bellatrix and her father has interested me for a while, so I thought I'd try writing something on the matter. I plan to post a snapshot from every year their lives overlapped in no particular order. I'm following the years listed on JKR's Black Family Tree. Thus, Cygnus lives from 1929-1979, Bellatrix being born in 1951. Let me know what you think of the idea!


	2. A Name Worth Carrying

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series.

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A Name Worth Carrying

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1951

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"A daughter."

The solemn announcement hit Cygnus; he fought the irrational urge to utter, _are you certain?_

Perhaps even more foolishly, he repeated the healer, "A daughter."

The healer nodded in his quiet way, avoiding Cygnus's glare as though he might receive the brunt of the Black's formidable anger. Cygnus waited for the healer's exit, then tried, failed, protested the exorcism of his swelling disappointment.

Unwisely, Cygnus, with little control of his temperament, entered the room housing both mother and daughter.

Cygnus saw briefly the thing Druella held in her arms, but for the duration of his fury saw his child as only a thing. He paid it no further attentions, fixing such stares upon his wife.

"I have failed you," Druella said.

The child did not cry, but screamed.

Druella's characteristic matter-of-fact remark grated Cygnus's last pulsing nerve. How his wife could speak to him without a note of pity, apology, wariness in her voice; Cygnus clenched his teeth. His unoccupied hand, the one that didn't run through the thick curls he shared with this child, ached to assail Druella. He longed to choke out some bit of emotion from those pale thin lips.

As his struggle for self-control began to surface, Druella granted his wish and displayed upon her face, of all things, a smirk.

"I will not beg for forgiveness, nor will I apologize." Druella's eyes glimmered coolly. For the duration of a passing ray of light, Cygnus thought his wife would cry. "I have carried this child for you, I have labored, and now I meet your disgust with apathy." Druella paused. "In any case, the child is a Black through and through."

"Her sex is a cruel irony, then," Cygnus growled.

"Hmm."

Cygnus shut his eyes; Druella's indifference maddened him.

"Perhaps a blessing, too," Druella added.

"How dare you pass petty remarks in place of a son."

"Yes, how dare I? You fool." Druella spat. She held her daughter to her chest, but Cygnus saw no warmth recolor his wife's pallor. "I said I won't apologize. I did not say I would give up."

Cygnus exhaled. Of course. Next time. One daughter would not stop the world. Not his world, surely.

"You will recover quickly?" Cygnus let slip his impatience.

Druella nodded. "I will vessel children into your house until I have reached perfection."

He would have a son, Cygnus told himself. For how could he, at that moment, know Druella's opinion of perfection would arrive small, blonde, and female?

"Hold her."

Cygnus's refusal was silence.

"She needs a name."

"Is Black not enough?" Cygnus muttered, unsure that a mere touch would inspire a name. But he took his firstborn from his wife.

The child ceased in her screaming as she then instead focused her dark eyes upon Cygnus.

Cygnus saw himself, if only in the reflection of his daughter's stare. Deeper, the longer he was unable to redistribute his attention, and Cygnus saw his family. Something stirred behind the focus of Cygnus and his firstborn. Father and daughter. Perhaps the sensation was not affection, but at least understanding. If not understanding, then what left but affection?

Cygnus brushed a finger lightly over his daughter's features, as though to will the face to transform into that of a son. But his finger paused for a second too long on the child's lips, and she wrapped her toothless mouth around his finger and clamped shut her tiny mouth. A realization prodded Cygnus toward reluctant amusement. She wanted to fight, even without the means to do so.

"Bellatrix." Cygnus looked briefly at his wife, then back at his daughter. "She is Bellatrix."

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**Author's Note:** Well, this isn't exactly the quick succession of updates I had hoped to achieve. But I am again inspired, so we'll see what happens. Thank you for your reviews.


	3. The Broken Heirloom

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series.

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The Broken Heirloom

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1960

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"Quite a handful, your household of girls," Orion remarked blandly after a series of political debates had turned sour.

Cygnus knew such comments were designed to provoke him, so he denied his cousin satisfaction with a soft chuckle.

"Not at all."

"Walburga seems to think otherwise."

"There's a house at Hogwarts for all the matters about which Walburga thinks otherwise. I'd be more concerned if my sister issued a compliment." Cygnus paused, gave his cousin a wry glance. "My daughters are pillars of gentility."

It was only partially a lie. Narcissa, as Druella constantly reminded Cygnus, was an angel. And Andromeda behaved, when she wasn't with Bellatrix. So really, there was only Bellatrix. And Cygnus rather thought he had mastered how to combat her brew of trouble.

So it was of course this moment Bellatrix chose to burst into the parlor, hair wildly escaped from the bow her mother insisted upon, cheeks flushed with giddiness. Her hands cradled something which she presented to Cygnus without a moment of hesitation, wariness, or concern that she had interrupted a conversation between two adults.

"Father," she said.

Bellatrix displayed the treasures in her hand like she had done nothing wrong.

Indeed, it was without a trace of remorse or fear of rebuke that she continued, "We were playing in the library, and I broke this."

Bellatrix poured the shards of the priceless vase into Cygnus's palm. Cygnus prodded the pieces and wondered vaguely if there was to be any hope for the heirloom. He knew his daughter tested him, subjected him to embarrassment in front of his social equal, yet Cygnus could not fathom an appropriate admonishment for Bellatrix who now beamed with the moon upon the remnants of her crime.

"It was an ugly vase to begin with."

Bellatrix plucked a jagged shape from the graveyard in Cygnus's hand and held it so the candle light could dance through it.

"Much prettier now, don't you agree?"

This was twice Bellatrix tested him, and twice Cygnus neglected to give Bellatrix the punishment he wouldn't have hesitated to give Andromeda or Narcissa had they committed the crime. Which, in all possibility, they might have; it was not beyond Cygnus's perception that Bellatrix manipulated her father's affections to save her sisters from deserved rebuke.

But the pride with which Bellatrix admired the broken crystal told Cygnus otherwise. The destruction of something precious and pointless, this was Bellatrix's work.

"Bellatrix," Orion said. His tone was much more offended than Cygnus's ever was, thus it attracted Bellatrix's attention. "Don't you understand the value such an object had to our family's history?"

Bellatrix's eyes gleamed with darkness, the warning, Cygnus knew, of an argument.

"Has," Bellatrix said simply.

"Excuse me?"

"Uncle Orion," Bellatrix sighed, "It still has value. It's being broken doesn't change that. In fact, I'd venture to argue that with more pieces, there's more value."

Orion gave a laugh, but it was not as appreciative as Cygnus would have liked.

"Cygnus, what a promising Slytherin you raise-"

"Besides," Bellatrix interrupted. "I think I'm a much better heirloom than a silly old thing used to hold flowers."

By this time, Bellatrix had crossed her arms, cocked an eyebrow, and looked every bit as formidable as Druella on her worst days.

"Oh yes, let us only imagine your potential if you were an heir."

"That's enough, I think, Orion," Cygnus warned.

Bellatrix was old enough to not only understand the implications of such remarks but to also meet them with indignation. Her face burned red with the sting of the accusation as she placed her shard of the broken vase into her father's hand.

"I suppose," Bellatrix leered at her uncle, "that I'll have to be more careful about which priceless trinket I choose to break in the future."

Bellatrix dismissed herself with the room with nothing but a toss of her dark curls and a chin jutted high into the air.

Orion lifted his eyebrows but, wisely, said nothing more on that matter of Bellatrix. He turned his attention instead to Cygnus's handful of vase.

"A quick Reparo will fix that, no?" Orion mused.

"No. Not if this damage was incurred by Bellatrix." Cygnus sifted through the pieces a final time, selected the largest shard, then slid the remaining bits into a drawer hidden from Druella's eye. "I've found, cousin, that things broken by Bellatrix remain broken."

Cygnus closed his fingers around the remnant of Bellatrix's handiwork and enjoyed his cousin's deflating arrogance.

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**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who has displayed an interest in this story! I hope to update sooner rather than later; reviews are appreciated.


	4. A Mark as Dark as Blood

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series.

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A Mark as Dark as Blood

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1971

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She entered the room only after knocking which was Cygnus's first clue that his daughter had come with a confession.

"Father," Bellatrix exhaled.

Her eyes scrutinized the rest of the room. Cygnus noticed the change in Bellatrix's facial construction as she took in Druella's presence. He wondered when they would stop their many wars. Not until one of them admitted defeat, presumably, which, assuredly, neither would.

"Oh, Mother. You're here too."

Bellatrix gave a very forced smile in Druella's vague direction.

"Careful of your tone, Bellatrix," Cygnus said.

"Well, I had hoped to catch you alone, actually."

Bellatrix stared at her father, and something in the dancing dark eyes challenged Cygnus.

"I'm sure anything you have to tell me will not be wasted upon your mother's ears."

"I'd prefer she left," Bellatrix said coolly, then amended, "for now."

Druella arched an eyebrow- perhaps the only trait Bellatrix inherited from her mother.

"Living under my watch or not-"

"Thankfully not," Bellatrix muttered.

Druella continued more loudly, "-you must still-"

Bellatrix balled her hand in a fist as she flourished her left forearm from the depths of her sleeve.

The image latched to Bellatrix's skin glowed oddly before Cygnus's eyes. He knew he must soon speak, but for a time he was transfixed, utterly shocked at this final action in his daughter's repertoire of daring.

Druella spoke first.

"Oh. _Bellatrix_."

The moan of protestation meant nothing to Bellatrix who drew back her shoulders, and Cygnus wished his wife wouldn't so discourage Bellatrix into obstinacy.

"Yes," Bellatrix replied ironically. "That is my name."

Cygnus gave a dry laugh as implications began to loosen his tongue.

"Yes," he mocked, "Do with it what you want."  
Bellatrix was not a stupid girl and she caught Cygnus's warning.

But those emotions, Cygnus thought, those weak girlish emotions that rose in Bellatrix's eyes in tears, those emotions that would one day be the death of her!

Those emotions drew Bellatrix's arrogant chin farther into the air.

"I will defend it. That's what I want to do with it."

Druella hissed. Her eyes pierced, or attempt to pierce, Cygnus's impassive exterior. Cygnus met the attention of his wife almost absently as he stroked his chin. Bellatrix leveled him with a gaze more controlling than Druella's.

"You will not allow her to continue with this, this _game_."

Druella marched swiftly from the room.

The door closed, and Bellatrix spoke. "Yes you will."

"Is this a game to you, Bellatrix?" Cygnus wondered aloud. "Is this just another concoction to mortify your mother, drive yourself farther away from your duties?"

"This is my duty; this is not a game, Father."

Cygnus took Bellatrix's hand and held it in his own. He sensed that it makes her somehow uncomfortable, that she wanted to escape.

"It's quite a design, isn't it," he murmured to himself.

The tendons in Bellatrix's wrist contracted.

"I think it's beautiful."

"You've always had an eye for beauty, my daughter. And a keen knowledge of when to abandon it."

Bellatrix bit her lip. She was furious, Cygnus could feel her pulse quicken beneath his fingers. Bellatrix's anger so often mirrored Cygnus's own rage.

He closed his fingers just below the mark, where he knew the branded skin would forever be tender.

Cygnus heard the crack of Bellatrix's dry lips parting in what she almost allowed to be a gasp, but nothing more. His grip tightened, but Bellatrix did not flinch. She allowed the pain to happen to her; she did not allow it to rule her.

"Are you going to master death like your master?" Cygnus asked.

Bellatrix's eyes left her Dark Mark and met her father's eyes. He saw only determination, no fear and he knew that he would eventually have to concern himself with its absence. But for now, the determination was thrilling enough.

"If I'm going to live forever, Father, I'll want a purer world first."

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A/N: So I had a complete plan for this story scrawled on a bit of paper stuffed in a notebook. I have the notebook; I just can't find the piece of paper. (Oh, I can't wait till my roommate finds my fanfiction notes.) Never fear, though, I have the outline mostly in my head. Reviews are appreciated.


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